Page 11 of When Sorrows Come

“Then Quentin did not actually ‘mess up and tell you everything,’ as he said over the phone,” said Tybalt, sounding faintly annoyed. “We travel tomorrow. We leave at sunset and should be in Toronto by dinner. It would make me a monster to demand you cross a continent, enter a new demesne, and wed, all on the same night. We’re to enjoy the hospitality of the High Court for a day,” a twist of his mouth made it clear how much he was looking forward tothat, “while final preparations are made, and you are afforded the opportunity to approve of those things as are not absolutely required and can yet be changed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“If you despise the cake for some reason, I’m sure Kerry would be delighted to commandeer the knowe kitchens and abuse the staff to make you something more to your immediate liking. Knowing her, she might actually view that as a gift, as it would save her from assisting with placement of the flowers. If you detest the flowers, I am afraid you’ll have a longer negotiation on your hands for any changes; they have been selected according to their meaning, and to avoid any allergies or insults to the attendees. You would need to propose substitutions that would avoid causing a war.”

I blinked very slowly. “This is way more complicated than I expected it to be.”

“Yes, well.” He shrugged. “I was honestly relieved when you elected to remove yourself from the process, as I was quite sure it would drive you to climbing the walls and repudiating the touch of man. As I very much enjoy touching you, I would prefer to avoid that unhappy future.”

I snorted. Tybalt smiled.

“I am truly forgiven, if you are making such indecorous sounds in my presence once more.”

“You’re a jerk,” I said mildly.

“Indeed, I am, for I am a cat, and what those of a more two-legged mindset view as ‘jerkishness’ is only feline, and only natural to me. But as you seem to be reasonably fond of such behavior, I do not regret my nature.”

“I only like it from you,” I said. “Because you’remyjerk. Now tell me what happens tomorrow.”

Tybalt read my tone as the invitation it was and shifted closer on the bed, plucking my phone from the mattress where it had fallen and setting it gingerly back on the bedside table. Despite April’s growing fae-focused cell network, he had yet to start carrying his own cellphone, choosing instead to be difficult to reach and require us to go through convoluted message chains when we need to get hold of him. Tracking spells, pixies, and Spike’s uncanny ability to find its people no matter where they go has made this slightly easier, but only slightly, and sometimes it’s annoying.

Although it doesn’t annoy me nearly as much as it does the boys. I skipped from 1995, when cellphones were new and strange, to 2009 in an instant. I’m used to a delay when I want to talk to someone. They really aren’t. They’re purebloods who will one day inherit kingdoms, but they’re also children of the modern human world, as changeling as I am, in their own ways.

Tybalt slid his arms around me, shifting positions until my back was pressed against his chest and he was holding me. Nothing more complicated or suggestive than that. Just holding me. Sometimes that’s the most wonderful thing in the whole world, having someone who wants to hold me for the sake of holding me, not because he thinks he might get something out of it later or because he thinks it’s expected of him.

“Well,” he said. “After you have packed up whatever horrors you choose to carry from your wardrobe—and pack for the assumption of a week away from home, if you would be so kind; Ginevra will be sending some of my subjects to feed Spike and the cats while we’re away, and I’ve given them temporary keys to the wards to ensure nothing goes awry—we will proceed to Muir Woods, where we’ll meet our traveling companions, and Arden will open our first gate.”

“Arden has a range of about... I don’t know, San Francisco to Portland is what, eight hundred miles? Where are we coming out?”

“We will be met by a detachment from the court of the Kingdom of Salted Skies, and from there, one of their courtiers will be able to take us another four hundred miles or so, to Highmountain.”

“So Utah to Colorado?”

“I believe that’s what the humans call those locations, yes.” Tybalt rested his chin against the crown of my head—something only possible when we were both sitting or lying down—and continued, in a calm tone, reciting the list of jumps we’d be making across thecontinent, naming Kingdoms I knew only from my childhood geography lessons and Etienne’s endless drills on courtly etiquette. I closed my eyes again, letting his voice soothe me.

Yes, this was worth it. Yes, this was why. They hadn’t lied to me, just held back information until I actually needed it, and now we were going to get married, peacefully and with as little pomp and circumstance as possible. We were getting married.

This was going to work.

four

“This isn’t going toWORK,” I said, folding my arms as I looked from the small crowd that had formed on my driveway to my car, which persisted in being a VW Beetle and not something larger. Like, say, a bus.

Quentin, who still looked wrong to me, with his stranger’s face and too-light hair, looked from the pile of our collective baggage to Raj and then offered, somewhat weakly, “Raj and Tybalt could be cats for the drive?”

“Oh, wewillbe,” said Tybalt. “I have too much sense to trust my life to a motor vehicle while large enough to be flung through the windscreen.”

“We could take the Shadow Roads,” said May.

“Only if you’re willing to leave your bags behind,” said Raj. “Carrying a person through the shadows is hard enough. We aren’t a luggage service.”

Everyone turned to look at Tybalt. He put his hands up. “Don’t expect miracles from me. It’s not my job.”

“It’s mine, and this is a miracle that’s not within my purview,” I said. “Sorry. Even I can’t fit four adults and three teenagers in a VW. I didn’t go to clown college when I was young enough to listen to the lectures on distorting space for fun.”

Someone in front of the house leaned on their horn, hard. I scowled, not bothering to turn around. We were in a residential neighborhood after dark, but we were also in San Francisco, within walking distance of the Castro District. If I insisted on silenceafter sunset, I’d be an asshole, not to mention a hypocrite, since it’s not like the fae shut up as soon as we get out of bed.

I went back to surveying the unreasonable amount of stuff piled on my driveway. Even if everyone had been able to restrain themselves to a single bag, we would have had way too much for the car, and the only person with a single bag was Raj, who seemed to be intending to conjure all his clothing from a handful of feathers and dried leaves stuffed into a backpack. A good gig—if you had the illusion magic to make it work.

---